


The September Country

by TrueRadicalDreamer



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, For Want of a Nail, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueRadicalDreamer/pseuds/TrueRadicalDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month before the start of Life is Strange, Maxine Caulfield can't resist looking up a certain video online.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The September Country

I managed to resist for almost a full month.

The little spinning circle on my browser is telling me that it’ll only be a few more minutes until I can get this over with. I spend those few moments berating myself to the same drumbeat of self-flagellation I’d been indulging in since the thought wormed its way into my head.

_It’s so wrong. It’s such a violation of our friendship. She’s gone through so much already with everyone else because of this stupid video._

How could I resist? Car wrecks are horrible, but people always stop to watch them. Some part of me said that maybe I could understand things better if I saw the video, but Kate meant too much to me for that kind of bullshit. I knew what this was: this was Kate’s car wreck and I wanted to rubberneck.

At least I’d managed to find the whole thing. Victoria had butchered a seven-minute video into a few meaty chunks for the hungry masses. _I_ wanted to be a connoisseur.

My dorm curtains were drawn, phone was off, and I’d convinced Warren to go talk to Brooke about her drone and it’s applications for fighting government surveillance (you owe me, Brooke). Even Victoria wasn’t in her room so she wouldn’t come over for an insult drive-by.

I was alone. I hit play.

Deep bass thumped through my laptop’s speakers and a sea of heads bobbed up and down in the low light of the Vortex Club’s main hangout downtown. Victoria and Nathan were lots of things, but they weren’t cheap; I could only see a little of the industrial trappings of the old warehouse under all the new furnishings and electronics. People were dancing and drinking and the strobe lights were giving me a headache even through the tiny screen.

Whoever this particular cameraman was it was clear his mind was only on one thing. I was oddly proud I could recognize my classmates by their tits or asses as camera phone guy made his way through the crowd. There went Juliet spinning and twirling to the beat with Zachary just barely keeping up. Diana was a pan over dancing by herself.

_Hey, get over here and film this!_

Victoria’s voice was distinct even over the thumping of the music. She came into view and started pulling the cameraman toward the center of the dance floor. There was crowd gathering even in the chaotic vortex of hormonal teens and a too-small dance floor.

A flash of reddish hair whirled mid-strobe. Victoria was cackling like a witch. _You are not going to believe this. Little miss Jesus went and got drunk._

It was Kate. Oh god, it was _Kate_. The video was grainy and the light was horrible, but there was no mistaking it. She was twirling and swaying in a too-small dress (who the hell was able to talk her into getting into it?) that said _I’m here._ The fishnets said _I’m here and I know how to lose control._

I’d never seen Kate like that before. She’d been nice to me when I was settling in, quiet-but-friendly. I never had to really care around her or watch what I said like everyone else. Kate didn’t care if I was hipster or that I used an old analog camera or listened to bands no one else has ever heard of. No matter what, she was just Kate, my new best friend in Arcadia.

_This_ wasn’t Kate, though. _This_ was something else. Kate was wearing a shade heavier eye shadow than she normally did and a bit darker lipstick, but it worked. In the little black dress she had on, with the fishnets and the makeup, I realized Kate would have passed for a goth back in Seattle. She had the right look and the right build and the right, well, maybe not _energy_ but maybe the right mindset.

She’s beautiful.

Someone knocked on my door. I slammed the top of my laptop down like I’d been caught doing something horrible. “Coming,” I said as I slid the thing under my bed.

My reflection looked at me out the corner of my eye. Good god, Caulfield, get your breathing in check. It was just a video. Just a video.

_It wasn’t **just** a video_ , I told myself as I looked into Kate’s eyes on the other side of my door. She was her usual, timid self. Arms wrapped around her stomach and her dusty eyes looking everywhere but at me.

“Max. I think I have something you’ll like.” It took a second to see the book in the crook of her arm. We exchange books so much I can’t think of which one this is. Not with Kate standing within arm’s length. “Can I…Can I come in?”

I nod like an idiot and Kate slides past me. Her auburn hair bun brushes against my chin as she goes past and I almost close my eyes. Instead I just take a long moment closing the door.

Kate is sitting at the very foot of my bed, hunched over and curled up. “Sorry. Victoria was down the hall and I just didn’t want to deal with her right now.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. Take all the time you need, Kate.” She smiles at me. The guilt of watching even a little bit of the video that’s ruined her life starts to eat at me and I can almost hear the deep beat of the Vortex Club thump from under my bed. To take my mind off of it, I pick up the book Kate brought over. “ _The Illustrated Man_?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Kate’s painted mouth. I’d never noticed it before, but that had to take some serious time to perfect. She probably used an old timey brush. Every time I blinked all I could see were flashes of that dark girl losing herself at the Vortex Club like the aftermath of a camera’s flash.

I tell myself to stop it. This is Kate. Same old, reliable Kate. She’s talking about how her literature class started its Bradbury month this morning and all the books she’ll let me borrow. Nothing new about her; same old lips, same old hair, same old legs that disappear into her almost-too-short skirt. Nothing dark and mysterious under that mascara and lip paint that I could lose myself in. She’s not dancing to thrumming bass like a force of nature.

“Max? Are you even listening to me?”

Same old Kate. Same old me. Same old friendship. New perspective.

_I’m **so** screwed. _

**Author's Note:**

> For now this will just be a one-shot. I might do more if it proves popular.


End file.
